


The Morning After

by Ylevihs



Series: How Not to Fall [4]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Flystep - Freeform, Herald no, M/M, Retribution Spoilers, canon typical self loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylevihs/pseuds/Ylevihs
Summary: Herald doesn't know that Ortega doesn't know.





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> *chucks this at you and runs*

\-- **Brrrrrrrrr** \--

Let it go to voicemail.

\-- **Brrrrrrrrr** \--

Just. Let him go to voicemail. 

\-- **Brrrrrrrrr** \--

Richard upped his pace, blasting an aura of ‘nothing to see here’ to keep passersby from keying too closely into the jingle of the burner phone. 

\-- **Brrrrrrrrr** \--

_Ignore it. Listen to it when you’re safe in your apartment. You can call him back and claim you were too bus—ah, beans that would be worse, wouldn’t it?_

\-- **Brrrrrrrrt.**

No. No, it wouldn’t be.  
The phone fell silent. Chimed to indicate a new message and Richard let out a sigh of relief.  
And then it began ringing again.

\-- **Br** \--

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” Richard didn’t put any effort into hiding his annoyance, hissing into his phone like a snake with a bad hangover. 

“Oh, I am, I am,” Ortega’s voice was filled with syrupy victory. “Just calling to see if you made it home alright. Last night. After your _date_ ,” the word was low and lurid and the way he said it made it seem like he knew. Knew every last sordid detail. Richard took in a deep breath. Forget going home, he was going straight to his base, straight into the Mad Dog armor, straight into a nice, blistering place of fury where he could show Charge what victory really sounded like. Like slipping into a hot tub of comforting violence. “I mean I _assume_ it went well,” there was going to be a follow up to that, he could taste it. Ortega’s voice dropped to a stage whisper, conspiratory and full of wicked delight. “Herald was positively glowing when I saw him come in,” 

“Probably glad to be rid of me,” it was choked, even to Richard’s ears. He’d made Daniel put him on the ground just in front of his apartment, insisting that he walk home on his own. Having Ortega know where he lived was bad enough. But also because he needed time to process the evening. 

Nothing had gone as planned. He’d gone home with Daniel. Told him that he was. 

Was. Wasn’t. 

And Daniel hadn’t. 

And they’d _slept_ together. 

And in the morning, as the glow faded and Richard pretended to pout while helping Daniel with the dishes, the wave of revulsion with himself struck.  
What had he done? He’d revealed too much and the fallout from it was going to be awful, he could feel it in the marrow of his bones. He hadn’t revealed enough and so what if it was a lie of omission? He’d lied to Daniel, tricked him into thinking he wasn’t some sort of revolting monster, and then slept with him. Lied that he wasn’t responsible for the jolting pain in Daniel’s knee every time he took a step. Richard had _touched_ him. Put his sour mouth on that vibrant skin, spreading poison with each kiss. Even if Daniel hadn’t wanted him gone—and oh, dear, in his thoughts he hadn’t wanted Richard gone and it made it hurt even more—he should have. 

If he knew what was good for him.

Ortega made a loud ‘tsk’ of disbelief, almost laughing. “There is no way that’s t--,” the black ice spreading along the rails of Richard’s train of thought cracked. 

“I nearly had a panic attack in the restaurant and ended up interrogating him about his dead brother,” Richard cut Ortega off, almost barking the words out. “I nearly had a panic attack on the roof of his building. I _absolutely_ had a panic attack inside his apartment. I may not be the expert, here, Mr. Playgirl’s Ranger of the Year, but I’m pretty sure having a nervous breakdown on a guy’s couch doesn’t qualify you as ‘second date’ material. In fact, I’m pretty sure it disqualifies you. You will not be getting a rose. Thanks for showing up, get lost,”

“Did you just make a Bachelor reference?” Ortega asked, groping for anything to joke about so that he could have time to organize a response to that. The insult was halfway up Richard’s throat before he could swallow it back down. 

People were glancing at him. Not quite staring, his ‘ignore this idiot’ field was still a little too strong to garner him real stares, but they were looking. No need to give them more reason to peek. It was enough of a lag in conversation for Ortega’s voice to go soft again. “Jesus, Richard, I had no idea. Herald flew in this morning looking like he saved the universe and I just assumed,” 

“It,” Richard ducked out of the foot traffic and into a broad alley, sighing heavily. “It didn’t…end terribly,”

He could _hear_ Ortega’s face brightening. “Oh? Good, that’s good,” and he sounded genuine enough that it made Richard’s stomach roll and twist. 

“Is this the only reason you called?” _You absolute piece of--_

“I can’t check in on my friend?” Ortega asked, the soundtrack of innocence. Richard rolled his eyes, remembered that Ortega couldn’t see him, and snorted into the phone.

“Since you’re so keen on checking in on my affairs, you’ll be delighted to know that, yes, I’m safely on my way home right now,”

The magnitude of how bad that sounded slammed into Richard like the. Like the. 

Ah, beans, he’d just _admitted._ Oh no. Nonono. He’d never hear the end of it now. 

“You’re just going home _now?_ It’s ten in the morning,” Ortega sounded positively giddy. “ _Dios mio,_ Richard, did you spend the ni--,”

\-----

The click was loud in Ortega’s ears, but he was too busy chuckling to himself to care. 

“Good for you,” he muttered to himself, meaning it. A shadow moved in the corner of his vision, Herald floating by into the breakroom. Carrying something? Ortega rose up from his chair, ignoring the twinges and aches in his back. Hips. Knees. Christ, even his ankles? Dull, warm pain radiated out from between his shoulder blades. He twisted, cracking his back and doing his best to ignore the needling voice in the back of his head complaining that he was starting to feel his age. More than his age.  
He leaned out of the his office, the official office, not the other one, and peered as best he could into the break room. There were two boxes on the table, low and long and,

“You went to get donuts?” he made sure his voice was bright and cheerful. Conversational. Herald really did look over the moon, all sunshine and smiles. He resisted the urge to grin back, but only barely. Only because he had to save that teasing smile for just the right time.

“Yeah,” Herald nodded, landed, and continued rummaging through cabinets, presumably looking for napkins. 

“Just because?” Ortega prompted, watching as Herald shrugged and smiled a small bashful smile.

“Just thought it would be a nice treat,” he explained and gestured to the boxes. One of them had clearly already been opened—Herald must have offered them throughout the rest of the office as he made his way in. 

“That’s nice of you,” an approving tone, good. Good. _Keep it reeled in, so that Herald can turn and put the napkins on the table and smile at you and you can smile back and say_ : “How was your evening?” Ortega let his eyebrows lift a little. Not quite insinuating. Still just a coworker having a completely innocent conversation.  
Herald’s face went from healthy pink to cherry red with a nervous chuckle. “Oh, it was fine. Good,”

“Fine?”

“Yeah. Yes,”

 _“Good,”_ Herald squirmed under Ortega’s gaze, trying to force back a smile and force down his blush, a kid who got caught making out with his crush behind the bleachers. He was already starting to float up, toes roughly an inch from the linoleum. Go for the gold, Ortega urged himself. “You and Richard had a nice time, then?” 

“You. Uh. You knew about. Um,” Herald sputtered and Ortega got a little more of an idea why Richard seemed so smitten by him. Sidestep had been the easiest man to fluster Ortega had ever met. Before Herald, that was. Richard must have been delighted to be on the delivering end of so many blushes for once. “He told you about that?”

“We just got off the phone,” not a lie. “He said that the two of you ‘had a great time and that he couldn’t wait for your next date’,” only a little, itty bitty white lie. 

“He…he said that?” and. Shit, maybe that was laying it on a bit thick, because Herald sounded just a little bit breathless. Eyes just a little bit wider. 

“Alright, maybe not in so many words,” he smiled and Herald mirrored it, softening, realizing that Ortega had been teasing him. “He said it wasn’t awful, which is pretty high praise coming from him,” Ortega turned and rapped his knuckles against the table, suddenly unable to look up from the boxed pastries. “He did say that he…got a little upset, at one point,” that was putting it mildly, if what Richard had described had been the exact truth. Still not looking up from the table, Ortega heard Herald’s feet touching down. 

“He did,” Herald’s voice was quieter and it made it easier for Ortega to look back. Clearly neither of them wanted to have this conversation. “We’d…um. We were at my apartment. And…I…,” Herald took his turn staring at the donuts. “I mean he told me. _Showed_ me. And it was so hard for him, you know?” 

Know what, now? Ortega blinked back his confusion, glad that Herald wasn’t making eye contact. Told him what? That Richard was gay? True, Sidestep had never come out of the closet, but he’d left the door fairly wide open. “Right,” he said. 

“I mean,” Herald rubbed absently at the center of his chest, frown deepening. “Jesus. I can’t even imagine how hard it must be,” his voice was quiet. “It explains so much, though,” Almost sad. 

“Can’t imagine either,” because he really couldn’t. What the hell was Herald talking about? Was this about Heartbreak? Oh, shit, it must have been. Oh, shit, what did Richard have to show him that would have been so terrible? That he didn’t feel like he could tell Ortega about but that he had to tell Herald about? Oh. _Shit,_ he didn’t even want to think about that. 

Ortega met his gaze and held it for a moment. And then Herald’s face did some interesting acrobatics and went from ‘light morose’ to ‘hot fear’.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul. I’ll take it to my grave if I have to, Ricardo, I swear. No one will ever find out from me,”

“Oh, that’s,” Ortega had no idea what to do with his face. “That’s. I’m sure Richard will appreciate that,”  
A not-quite awkward silence settled between the two men. And then.

“I’m…glad he trusted me with it,”

Must be nice, Ortega tried and failed to keep the thought from being bitter. It was a good thing that his best friend had someone he could trust like that. Even if. Even though it wasn’t him. It still stung in a private place, just behind his heart. “I’m glad too, Herald. For the both of you,”


End file.
